Page 21 of Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat
‘Hmm.’ The man grunted in obvious disapproval. ‘I came over to ask what you’re going to do about our cell phones.’
Tom frowned. ‘Your cell phones?’
‘They’re not working.’
Fee bit her tongue as Tom patiently explained the situation regarding the phones and internet coverageand the fact he made this clear in the resort’s brochures. The man complained a while longer but left when it was clear there was nothing Tom could do.
‘Fee, I…’
‘He saved us,’ she quickly interrupted. ‘Maybe we should thank him.’Liar.
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Maybe.’ Fee couldn’t manage to smile and hurried away down the steps. Tom didn’t try to stop her and she knew sheshould be grateful.
Tom was surprised his mother waited so long. She must be getting more restrained in her old age although if he dared use her name and those last two words in the same sentence she’d put him on a spit and turn him ‘til he was crispy around the edges.
Standing on his doorstep at barely eight o’clock in the morning she held out a cardboard box and warm, cinnamon-scentedaromas wafted in his direction. His mother’s kind smile didn’t fool him for a second. Sarah Chambers was a stellar detective and the fact she’d never been a police officer was irrelevant because no one bested her when it came to in-depth investigations. No doubt she’d gathered evidence from his father and anyone else who’d witnessed his outburst in the cafe. Probably even Lulu got the thirddegree after being bribed with ice cream.
‘Mama, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I swear you get prettier every time I see you.’ Tom bent to kiss her cheek.
‘You can stop your flannel right now. I got up at six this morning to make these cinnamon rolls so let’s eat. You’d better have a pot of coffee ready. After we’ve eaten you’lllistento me for a change.’
He opened thedoor wider and his mother pushed in past, making a beeline for the kitchen. Tom trailed in after her and rubbed at his temple as the nagging hangover he’d woken up with intensified.
‘Serves you right. You and drink don’t do well. I thought you’d at least learntthatlesson.’
‘I…’
‘Don’t lie. Your eyes are dull and your jaw-line’s puffy. Can’t get away with it at fortylike you could at seventeen. I haven’t forgotten when your delinquent brothers helped you celebrate your birthday by sneaking Daddy’s whisky bottle out of the cupboard and replacing the contents with cold tea afterwards.’
He didn’t waste time arguing and slumped in the chair while his mother bustled around the kitchen. For a good ten minutes she tidied up, complaining under her breathat the dirty dishes strewn all over the place. Once the dishwasher was loaded and the countertops wiped down to her satisfaction she found clean plates and forks and opened up the box she’d brought with her. His mother dumped a massive warm, fragrant roll on each plate and passed one to him before pouring two large mugs of coffee.
‘Eat,’ she ordered. ‘We’re not spoiling my rolls by talkingabout your bad behaviour.’
Ouch. Knowing how to turn the guilt screw on their kids must be a specialty of mothers everywhere. Food was the last thing his queasy stomach needed but he’d shove the roll down if it killed him. If he showed anything less than rampant enthusiasm it’d be another black mark against him and he’d already racked up enough to win an Olympic gold medal.
‘Youhaven’t lost your knack, Mama.’ Thankfully he didn’t need to lie because as he swallowed the first bite his appetite started to creep back. Even Aunt Ina who could bake the heck out of most people couldn’t make a cinnamon roll to touch his mother’s. He received one ofthoselooks making it clear she’d let him sweet talk her for now but when she chose the right moment he’d better watch out.
It took four minutes and thirty-five seconds.
‘So, Thomas Michael, when’re you going to apologise to your daddy?’
Full name. Always bad. ‘Uh, lunchtime?’
‘Good answer.’
Tom took another swig of coffee. ‘And of course to Aunt Ina, Lulu and anyone else I offended.’
‘Sometimes you’re not as dumb as you look.’
He’d take the back-handed complimentas the best he’d get.
‘Your grandmother called me.’
‘Who told her?’
His mother snickered. ‘Who didn’t is more to the point? The story was all over town before supper time.’
